


All in Good Time

by roxyryoko



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Getting Older, Married Life, Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Age haunts Dorothea in the mirror and in every smeared note, but Ferdinand’s love has never been superficial.Written for the Ferdithea Zine: Sweet like Honey.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46
Collections: Sweet Like Honey





	All in Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> It was so wonderful to be part of the Ferdithea zine! Thank you to Kaerra for beta-ing and support! Happy Holidays everyone.

Dorothea twirled her fingers through the tepid water, spinning the rose petals and orange peels floating atop the surface into hypnotic spirals. The potpourri’s subtle aroma clung to the humidity pervading the chamber, effusing a familiar, soothing spell. Normally, this blend eased her worries and evoked a sweet nostalgic haze. With each deep breath, she would be plunged into recollections of early mornings lost in Ferdinand’s gaze, the scent of citrus in his hair, or languid days lost in carefree pursuits, the taste of rose tea on her tongue. Yet tonight, not even fragrant baths could lull her into a state of tranquility. 

The children had been absolutely delighted when Ferdinand returned home after a moon’s absence, ushering him into the parlor without a moment to rest. Despite the sleep in his eyes and the lethargy in his step, he followed them without protest, bantering excitedly, eager to bear witness to their latest “magnum opus.” These family operas had become tradition long before their eldest, Sophia, could even sustain a note, and now, nearly eleven years later, she still reacted with just as much enthusiasm as the very first surprise performance.

By Dorothea’s encouragement they would write the stories—always something fantastical and baffling whimsical, something only the innocence of a child’s mind could conjure—and gather costumes and items from around the castle grounds to enrich their characters with life. They’d rope Dorothea in at every stage of the process to draft clumsy lyrics into sweet melodies, to weave cobbled plots into haphazard stage directions, and to turn lighthearted practice into a merry game.

Ferdinand would smile fondly throughout the entire performance, no matter how fraught with errors it may be. Afterwards, he’d eulogize them, commending even the most silly details as if it was of equal caliber to the Mittelfrank Opera.

Today, just like always, he gushed that overzealous praise. Even though Dorothea’s voice cracked on the highest note, smearing the once angelic tunes into something murky and indistinct.

“Dorothea,” Ferdinand called with a knock on the chamber door, rousing Dorothea from her thoughts.

After a moment’s pause, he cracked open the door and peeked his head inside. “Is anything the matter? You have been in here for a great length of time. I cannot help but grow worried.”

“Everything is fine, Ferdie,” Dorothea assured, a tight smile on her lips.

Ferdinand traversed farther into the room, slippers clapping faintly over the mosaic tiles. He wore a burgundy robe, with his lounge clothes underneath, and had his long hair tied behind his back. Fatigue still hollowed his gaze, emphasizing the lines at the corner of his eyes, each one made all the more prominent under the flickering glow of candles. 

Given the late hour and the past few days of grueling travel, he really ought to be asleep. However, even when she’d come home at ungodly hours during Mittelfrank’s resurrection efforts, he’d have a candle lit and a salutation ready—unless drowsiness bested him. After so many years of concern and protest, she had relented to the affectionate courtesy.

Ferdinand crouched down beside the wooden tub and crossed his arms atop the edge, chin pillowed comfortably, and gazed at her with a quirk to his lip and a crinkle at the base of his eyes. 

He chuckled warmly, “I may have been absent for a moon, but I can still perceive when troubles afflict my dearest wife. As always, I will gladly lend an ear.”

Dorothea regarded him a moment before she dropped her gaze to the flora floating atop the water. She shrugged and demurred, “Oh, it’s silly, Ferdie.”

“Even so, I would like to listen.”

She lifted her hands out of the water and rotated them, revealing slender fingers tipped with slightly shriveled skin. Pensively, she traced her left index finger, examining every small bump and crevice. One day soon, the sight would not be a temporary effect. She could already see age creeping up on her with every glance in the mirror: the ghost of smiles trapped at the corners of her lips even after relaxing, and gray hairs speckling her brown locks.

Ferdinand watched her quietly, waiting patiently. After a few more seconds, she sunk her hands back into the depths, banishing the sight while she could. 

“Well… I suppose it just finally really hit me that I’m getting old. During our little performance, I couldn’t hit the high G. That one had always been a bit of a stretch, but tonight I couldn’t hit it at all.” 

She tilted her head to Ferdinand, forcing a smile. “Nothing gold can stay, that’s what they say.”

Ferdinand hummed thoughtfully and drummed a finger on the tub. “That is the cruel fate of man, is it not?”

Dorothea nodded in solemn agreement.

Ferdinand continued, “As much as I would like to say that age is a testament to our accomplishments and that we are the lucky few to wallow in its reverie, I must admit I struggled with the same realization the other day. A lad bested me during a duel. It was just for sport, but I was still troubled by the loss. I am certain I would have easily been victorious in years past, but… I suppose it was bound to happen. Lately, I have often been beset with difficulty during the more extraneous drills.”

With the admission of mutual despondency, Dorothea felt less alone. She wasn’t entirely certain what still separated her from full reassurance, but knowing he understood the basics of what troubled her helped immensely.

“During the war, I feared the future as much as losing,” she said quietly. “I kept picturing my fate when I became a hoarse, shriveled up hag—back on the streets. Alone.”

“I would never have left you to starve on the streets, Dorothea. You know that,” Ferdinand insisted, reaching out to trace the curve of her jaw in the way she loved. 

She placed her hand atop his. “I know you wouldn’t have—I know I had friends who would help me find my way. I think that wasn’t really what I was most afraid of in the end.”

With a gasp, the truth of the matter hit Dorothea like a punch to the diaphragm. 

“It’s that I’m nothing without my voice, Ferdie,” she whispered, staring at the potpourri pieces floating near her knees. “It made me who I am—pulled me out of poverty, made me into an opera star. Even my beauty wasn’t as valuable as my voice. It allowed me to express myself, to become something greater. Without it… I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Ferdinand’s fingers traveled up to cup the back of her head, gently turning her to face him. The depth of love that shone in his eyes, in the soft set of his mouth, made her heart skip a beat.

“Your voice was a means to your survival and success, but it’s not the sum total of who you are—or why I love you,” he said, the tenderness in his voice making her toes curl. “You are the woman who fought by my side through peril and adversity, even when we failed to understand each other; the woman who finally saw through my shallow facade of what nobility meant, and into the core of who I am; my beloved wife and the mother of my children. Not even those things fully summarize who you are.”

With a gentle tug, Ferdinand guided her to meet him in a chaste kiss. Instantly, Dorothea melted under the press of his lips and eagerly deepened the intimacy. They'd repeated this performance many times over the years, but this felt like the moment when a production fully captured its audience, when emotions sang in Dorothea's heart as well as the rising aria of her voice at the big reveal. All of Ferdinand’s love radiated off each heated exchange, and Dorothea couldn’t help but revel in the knowledge that this affection was and had never been a performance. Ferdinand had never worn the mask of an actor before her; he loved her truly and unconditionally. 

And she no longer had to be anyone but herself, young or old. 

They separated after several blissful moments, but Ferdinand still held her nape, twisting his fingers through the base of her hair. His hot breath washed over her cheeks, warming her heart more than he’d ever know.

With mirth coloring her tone, she laughed, “I suppose it’s not so bad to be old when I have you at my side.”

Ferdinand smiled fondly back. “No, it’s not so terrible.”

His tone grew emboldened as he continued. “All the pleasures of man could tempt me, but I would not trade any of them for a fate different than growing old with you. Although this life is but a flame doomed to be snuffed far too soon, to share my limited days with you, Dorothea, is nothing short than the most divine blessing from the Goddess.”

Dorothea snorted indelicately into the water. “My, Ferdie, you can certainly wax poetic, can’t you? But, I feel the same way.”

She drew close again, gazing straight into his amber-colored eyes. With a giggle, she asked, “Will you still love me when I can only sing like a frog?”

Ferdinand inched even nearer and moved his hand to cup her cheek, gently caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. He crooned, “Yes, and longer still.”

Dorothea beamed back and plucked a pruny hand out of the water, accidentally flicking droplets onto his cheeks and sleeves. She held it up by her face. “Will you love me when every inch of my body is shriveled up?”

She trailed her fingertips down his cheek and he leaned into the touch. His own fingers curled around hers and he placed a slow kiss to her wrist. Dorothea’s heart fluttered.

“Yes, and much longer still.”

Playfully defiant, she prompted, “So, even when this rose has wilted away and returned to the soil...you’ll still love me?”

Ferdinand smiled wryly. “Yes, for eternity, and even longer still.”

Dorothea laughed, “There’s nothing longer than eternity, Ferdie.”

Ferdinand drew her hand to his lips and decorated two knuckles with kisses. He met her gaze and within his eyes was nothing but devotion. “Maybe not, but my love for you will transcend beyond the shackles of this life.”

Dorothea shivered, like the suspended moment on stage at the close of the show, right before the audience’s applause—the moment when she knew she had touched them, left them with stories to remember and morals to consider. The moment she knew she mattered.

“You know, Dorothea, the interesting thing about bees and flowers is that the two cannot thrive without the other,” Ferdinand continued, running his thumb over the top of her hand. “And more so than merely that. Only together can the next generations thrive. Your voice and your wondrous heart will live on in our children and in theirs after. We’ve heralded a new dawn, and have watched the world mend, what else is there to do but look forward to the future that’s blooming with the most resplendent gardens.”

“Ferdie, dear, you’re monologuing again,” she teased as a besotted grin unfurled on her face. “And I love every word.”

“Furthermore,” Ferdinand chortled as he splashed water from the bath at her face, “You will forever be my water nymph.”

Dorothea gasped as the water cascaded over her head, wetting the bun keeping her hair dry. She cast him a playful scowl. “More like a soaked siren than a water nymph.”

“I would be under your spell just the same. Though, I need not eyes nor ears to be enchanted with your soul,” Ferdinand continued and gathered her close, paying no heed to her damp skin nor the water drenching his sleeves.

He kissed her sweetly on the cheek and Dorothea allowed herself to fold into his embrace.

“Well, that’s no good,” she said. “I’d prefer that you hear and see me even when I’m old and gray.”

“As would I,” he chuckled. “How else could I enjoy all the wonderful plays you and the children perform for me?”

“Speaking of those, Felicity was begging for her Papa to have a role in our next performance. What do you say, will you join us?”

“It would be the most noblest honor! I am quite the exemplary singer, as you know.”

Dorothea furrowed her brows. “I’m not so sure, Ferdie. You may be a bit out of practice. Why don’t you sing a little duet with me now? Just for fun.”

She nuzzled her nose against his and laughed, “While we both can string the notes together!”

Ferdinand’s laughter echoed hers. “Of course! What shall we sing?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko)!


End file.
